Remembering Forward
by microgirl
Summary: Remembering the serendipitous and quirky road...GSR.
1. Chapter 1

_Remembering Forward_

_Chapter 1 _

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to CSI; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance._

_Author's Note: This is my first CSI fic and is the fluff I am not ashamed to admit I love. Constructive criticisms definitely welcome. My most special thanks to EllipsesBandit for all of her comments and help. And thanks to CSINut214 for taking the time to read this. There are other chapters, so let me know if you want to read more. Enjoy!_

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She wasn't normally like this. To see her in this current state was such a rare occurrence. She always wore comfortable jeans or khaki pants. Even for court she donned an appropriate pantsuit.

But Sara Sidle was wearing a skirt. Yes, a skirt.

Normally, she avoided the article of clothing. Skirts were uncomfortable and panty hose were such a hassle because, no matter what, they always tore. But for this occasion, Sara decided to forgo her usual attire and dress up. Just for tonight.

Sara was getting ready to go out to dinner with her fellow nightshift criminalists. The team had insisted on the small celebration as a result of her engagement to Gil Grissom.

After putting on her shoes she walked into the living room to wait for her fiancé. She straightened some of the books and forensics journals on the coffee table, then looked at the living room of the townhouse, amazed at how much had changed. Several full bookshelves stood next to Grissom's growing library. A shade called "relaxing blue" coated the walls nicely complementing the cases of mounted insects. And a special orchid plant resided on an end table near the window.

So this mixture of these two lives had worked. It seemed almost unbelievable that Sara's life had gone from loneliness to complete contentness all by the action of a simple dinner.

Sara smiled to herself, thinking of that fateful evening. So many good things happened after that night. Things she had previously given up on, but now were very real.

Her life was moving forward, and she couldn't wait to begin this new chapter with-

"Honey have you seen my pergamine paper!"

* * *

_7 months prior_

For once, the graveyard shift had encountered a slow evening and Sara had spent the time catching up on paperwork. It was agreed that the biggest drawback to the job was all the forms that had to be filled out to catalogue and identify evidence.

After finishing her last file, she made her way to Grissom's office. Her eyes hurt a bit from staring at the same meaningless forms all night. She looked forward to having some breakfast and maybe a nice bubble bath.

She felt a slight twitching in her stomach as she approached the specimen-filled office. Her encounters with Grissom had been strained lately, and she didn't feel up to dealing with his typical cryptic comments.

The door to his office was open, and it appeared that Grissom also spent his time with paper work. She knocked lightly on the door to catch his attention, and when he looked up, she came into the room.

Grissom looked particularly endearing sitting at his desk amid text books, jars of insects, fetal pigs, and other assorted experiments. Why he looked endearing surrounded by such oddities, she had never quite figured out, but Sara found his scientist side incredibly attractive.

She placed her folders on the stack atop of his desk. He leaned back, letting out a frustrated breath of air.

"I finished my cases, and these all need your signature"

"Thank you," he replied.

"Looks like you're making progress." She noticed some of the piles had decreased.

"Yeah," he said with a slight rise of his eyebrows.

Sara kept looking at Grissom as he took off his glasses. He always kept his emotions locked up behind those blue eyes. The silence was broken when he spoke again. "Are you going home now?"

"Yeah. Spending the night filling out papers is more tiring than being at a scene." She noticed Grissom was staring at the glasses in his hands. He looked as if he wanted to say something.

She waited a few seconds, and just as she was about to tell him good-bye, she heard Grissom blurt out words she _never_ thought he would say to her.

"What are you doing tonight?"

And here was that cryptic nonsense again. He always did this to her. He would go through periods where he treated her like his student or act as if she didn't exist. Then there were the few times where he seemed genuinely worried ...or concerned, as he put it.

"I don't have any plans."

"Would you like to go to dinner?"

Sara was fed up. This tug-of-war on her emotions was getting far too difficult to deal with. She spent many sleepless afternoons wondering what was happening. Sara wanted him in her life on a personal level, and if that couldn't happen than she would keep her relationship with him strictly professional. Either way, the constant state of limbo was getting old.

Grissom hadn't been personal with her as of late, so she had been taking the opportunity to try to move on. She wanted to forget everything that she felt for him, but there were times like now, where she saw him and everything would come rushing back to her.

Part of her wanted to throttle him for asking her to dinner. The other part of her was hoping this invitation would be something more.

She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity as scores of emotions played across his face: truth, hope, and… fear, maybe.

Finally she agreed. "All right, where do you want to want to go."

A look of relief briefly passed over his eyes, "I was thinking the diner, at about 7?"

"I'll see you tonight then."

Grissom told her goodnight and she turned around and walked out of the office. She had no idea what his intentions were for this evening, but she was going to use the dinner as an opportunity to make some things clear. She wanted them to come to some understanding about their relationship.

She just hoped she had strength to deal with the outcome.

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At 6:57pm, Sara drove to the parking lot of the diner; the team often came here for impromptu breakfasts. Usually she came here with Nick, Warrick, and Greg.

Now she was going to be here with Grissom. Alone with Grissom.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and got out of the Denali. She'd ended up skipping breakfast and the bubble bath, and had spent the afternoon thinking of what might happen. She rehearsed the many things she wanted to say, and she hoped to move forward with their relationship in whatever direction it was supposed to head.

Walking through the front door, she saw Grissom sitting at one of the booths facing the front entrance. He had a cup of coffee sitting on the table by his right hand. She came over and sat across from him.

The waitress immediately came over and asked Sara if she wanted anything. She just ordered a cup of coffee.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" Grissom asked as the waitress left.

"No, I'm not really hungry." Sara's stomach was tied into knots as she thought about what was going to happen. There was no way she could eat anything right now.

Grissom surprised her a second time that day when he said, "So how have you been?"

He was being personal again. "I've been all right," she said, which was the truth. She was very much enjoying her new role as Greg's mentor, and she had gotten rid of all the liquor in her apartment. But why was he asking her this?

Several moments of silence passed between the two CSIs as they sipped their coffee. The quiet was driving Sara insane; if he wasn't going to initiate the conversation, than she was. Besides, it was going to be easier to get this over with sooner.

"Grissom, if this is about…what's happened with us…I'm sorry. It's my fault"

"Not all of this is your fault", he replied gently. "Sara…there's something I need to explain to you."

The knots tightened painfully. She knew it was time to leave before she lost control.

"There's nothing you need to explain. I understand. I-I'm sorry...I should probably go." She hoped to get to the car and out of the parking lot before the tears started.

She was interrupted as she tried to leave the booth. "I don't think you understand why I asked you here."

The gentleness of his voice tore at her heart. She decided to stay to gain the painful closure she knew she needed.

He balled his hand into a fist as if to gather strength for his next words. He sucked in a breath and said "I know."

Now Sara was confused. _He knows?_ _What is he talking about? _ "You know…what?" She hoped the frustration she was feeling didn't come out with her voice.

"I know I can do this," he used his hand to gesture between the two of them.

Sara could have sworn there was something wrong with her hearing. _Did he actually say that?_ This was the last thing she thought he would answer. She had prepared herself for heartache tonight as he would inevitably reach the conclusion as to why it would be wrong to pursue a relationship. Sure she hoped he would say something like this, but in the back of her mind she knew it was never going to happen.

She understood he was telling the truth though. One look into his blue eyes, and Sara saw absolute sincerity. Grissom actually wanted to do this. She started to tremble.

"Grissom…what do you--"

"Sara listen", he interrupted with his own hint of frustration. "I…didn't know what to do before. I didn't know if I could handle this, but now…"

This had to be really hard for him; Grissom never opened up like this, especially to her. But she wasn't going to going to say anything. Not when things might be turning around. "There were many reasons why I couldn't…before."

Sara had a good idea of what those reasons were: the age difference, his supervisor position, their past history. None of that mattered to her; sure things would tough, but she had confidence that they could get past them. She nodded her head, and he continued.

"This job and what we see every day has made me think of what I'm missing, what I could miss. And then those reasons seemed… meaningless."

How did he do it? How was it that Gil Grissom could make her so upset, she swore her insides were being dissected and then reduce her to tears of happiness? She wasn't openly crying, but she felt the tears building up behind her eyes. She tried hard to keep her emotions at bay.

"Then one afternoon I thought about this and I knew I could do it. I didn't know how. I _still_ don't know how, but I knew I could do it."

Sara wanted to deck him; punch him and then lean over the table to kiss those lovely lips until they both passed out from oxygen deprivation.

Her heart felt as if a giant weight of doubt had been lifted, leaving her relieved of its burden. An unfamiliar surge of warmth ran through her veins, and she almost broke down from the force of it.

She didn't need any declarations of feelings or need to know what exactly he thought. Besides, he didn't look up to revealing much else at the moment. She heard him take several deep breaths, looking like he was trying to get in control of his feelings again. He looked a little pale from what he told her, but she recognized the relief in his eyes.

All she needed was that he was willing to see what would happen between them.

As the tears glittered in her eyes, Sara smiled at him. One of her full-on grins that hadn't been seen in a long time.

In return, Grissom gave her one of his crooked smiles that him look adorable. Prompted by his response she asked in a very quiet voice, "Would like to go to dinner tomorrow?"

Grissom's smile grew a bit wider and reached across the table and took her hand. Sara's heart fluttered when his soft, warm fingers entwined with her own. "I'd like that" he answered in a voice so quiet it seemed she was the only one who heard him.

Then again, she was the only person who needed to.

* * *

That night had been a wonderful precursor to the months that came after. More dinners, baseball games, museum trips, mornings cuddling on the couch, days spent in bed… 

And now a wedding. Yes, marriage to Gil Grissom.

"We're about to leave for dinner," Sara called, "Why are you looking for pergamine paper?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Remembering Forward_

_Chapter 2 _

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter! Those comments meant a lot to me. I hope you all like chapter 2. _

_By the way, pergamine paper is used for "temporary storage of Lepidoptera and other insects" (from an entomology website). I also found out it is used in other assorted experiments._

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* * *

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Sara just emerged from the bathroom as she was finishing getting ready for work that evening. She put on her watch and made her way out to the kitchen to pack her lunch.

Grissom was already in kitchen preparing his food. She smiled at him as she opened the refrigerator door contemplating what to have. As she was going through the contents she smelled it: that slimy, meaty smell. Hot dogs.

She turned around, looked over his shoulder, and sure enough he was making hot dogs for himself. The food would always have a special, yet disgusting meaning for her.

Sara looked at him and said "You better not be putting chili and onions with that."

* * *

Sara enjoyed the breakfasts and dinners she shared with Grissom during the past few weeks. Getting to know him on a more personal level was exhilarating because he never revealed anything to her previously. 

But the meals were getting somewhat boring because they hadn't ventured out beyond restaurants yet. So she was thrilled when he asked her to go to a baseball game with him. She wasn't a big sports fan, but she couldn't wait to see him in a more relaxed and casual setting.

He had a 10 game ticket set to the Las Vegas 51s, Nevada's minor league baseball team. His seat was field level along the first base line, and he told Sara that he had an extra ticket for her.

The game was scheduled at 7:05pm, and they both had the evening off. She was nervously waiting for him to pick her up. He was supposed to pick her up at 5:30, but it was now nearing 6.

At 5:53 there was a knock on her door, and she jumped to answer it. When she opened the door, she was greeted to the sight of Grissom she'd never seen before.

He wore tennis shoes and blue jeans. His shirt was a nice shade of royal blue that matched his ball cap. The blue brought out his eyes, making them sparkle.

Sara giggled silently at the cap; the blue hat had a gray alien stitched on the front. She knew the cap for the Las Vegas 51s as they were named after Area 51.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to pick up some essentials for the game," he said as he gestured to the small duffle bag he was carrying.

"Essentials? And those would be…"

"Peanuts, popcorn, and Cracker Jacks," he smiled.

She chuckled a little at that and shook her head.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's head out." He stepped aside to let her out, and she locked the door; then they were off to Cashman Field.

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Grissom always showed what great manners he had whenever they went out. Tonight was no exception. He opened the passenger car door, waited until she was in her seat, and then closed it.

The end of their dates also showed his class; whenever he dropped her off, he walked her to her front door. He never made any attempts to get invited inside.

And no matter what, he always gave her a kiss on the cheek before saying good bye. Truthfully, Sara wanted to know how those velvety lips would feel against her own. She knew though, that he did things in his own time, and she didn't want to push him or scare him off. If it took too long getting to their first _real_ kiss, he would get a little nudging.

The evening was warm enough to be without a jacket, and the stadium wasn't very crowded. The couple got to their seats with ease; they settled to watch the game.

Remembering their conversation at the hockey rink so many years ago Sara turned to him, and said "All right where is the beauty in this?"

Grissom looked at with that endearing quizzical expression, "You don't see it?"

"I see a group of steroid-pumped, overpaid men mentally equivalent to fourth graders hitting a ball with a stick."

Putting his arm gently around her shoulders to direct her attention, he said "Look at the diamond."

She found it a little difficult to observe when his arm touched her shoulder, but she found her concentration somehow. It looked like a diamond.

Sara shrugged her shoulders. "I still don't see it."

"Look at the foul lines. They're perfectly straight, dividing the diamond equally. Balance in a chaotic game."

She turned her eyes to the field again and she could see it this time. The white lines standing out against the dark brown earth. The emerald green shimmering under the brilliant lights.

"I see it," she answered in a hushed voice. She felt his eyes lingering on her before they turned back to the field.

"So you see the symmetry?"

"No. It's the colors."

He seemed perplexed for a moment before turning to the field again. She watched him out of the corner of her eye; he studied it like he was studying a new species of beetle. Familiar, but unique.

He smiled at her and asked, "Would you like to help me keep score?"

As the game started Grissom patiently explained all the numbers and symbols used in the book. He showed her how to record outs, hits, and strikes. His smooth voice never talked down to her. It was those traits that made him an excellent teacher

By the fourth inning, she became quite proficient with the numbers, and told him she could handle scoring while he went to grab some food.

That was another great aspect of baseball: the food. Sure it was insanely over-priced, but baseball was just one of those sports that went well with all that greasy food.

Sara politely asked him to get her some nachos, and just as he was about to head up the steps, she called his name.

"You know, you can get a hot dog or a burger or something else if you want."

He smiled at her, then went up to the concession stands. Just because she didn't eat meat, didn't mean he had to also. It'd taken several dates for her to convince him it wouldn't be a problem if he had meat with his meal. She just didn't want to see it raw. Besides, she suspected that he loved a hot dog with his baseball.

A few minutes later he appeared, loaded down with food. He handed her the nachos and she noticed he had gotten himself a chili dog, topped with cheese and onions, and barbeque chips on the side.

She laughed to herself again. It was a good thing he didn't take her seriously.

"I got this for you too" he said as he handed her the infamous alien hat. She was surprised and touched that he had gotten this souvenir.

"Thank you," she murmured, rewarding him with another bright smile.

The two of them enjoyed the rest of the game. Sara was surprised when she heard him whistle and cheer the 51s on to a win. He was obviously having fun and being carefree; she knew right then she wanted to see this side of him more often.

There was no climatic ending to the game as the Las Vegas 51s were able to win easily with a score of 8-2. Grissom packed the leftover snacks and the score book in his bag, and the two headed out. He surprised her again when he grabbed her hand as they walked out of the stadium and didn't let go.

Her smaller hand fit nicely into his larger one. His fingers were callused from years on the job so they felt a little rough, but she loved the action anyway. A warm feeling passed through her as they continued to the car.

They drove back to her apartment in a compatible silence. It had been a wonderful evening and she hoped to share many more.

He walked her to the front door, and she waited for her usual goodbye kiss on the cheek.

However, he took a step closer. His eyes looked different, but maybe that was because she had never seen them this close before. He smelled like grass, peanuts, baseball, and Grissom. She heard her heart thundering away as he leaned in closer to claim her lips.

Sara never experienced any kiss like this; his lips were soft, and he was incredibly gentle. Her brain melted at the simple, brief touch.

Grissom pulled back after a moment, and smiled. "Good night," he whispered.

This time, she was not going to let him off that easy.

They touched lips again and her tongue tried to seek a way into his mouth. He complied, and she couldn't wait to figure out how he tasted. For some reason, she had always thought he would taste like vanilla…when she suddenly pulled back.

Sara had forgotten about the chili dog. With onions. Combined with the popcorn and barbeque chips. He tasted…he tasted…well, not like vanilla.

He must have tasted something similar in her mouth because he had the same look of politely suppressed disgust. It was then she realized her breath wasn't that good either. She didn't pop any mints to cover up the nachos and the other salty snacks she indulged in because she never expected him to kiss her on the lips tonight.

They both chuckled at this predicament. This definitely was not how she imagined her first kiss with Grissom. Although she had to admit he looked rather cute fighting against his embarrassment.

She felt all the blood traveling to her face; she had to be bright red by now. Using what last bit of strength she had, and there wasn't much, she kissed him quickly on the cheek, told him goodnight, and entered her apartment.

Once she closed the door, she started to laugh. It had been a lovely night and now this was how it ended. She just hoped this was a minor set back and he would not be afraid to kiss her again.

Sara knew that wasn't going to the case as she heard him chuckling on the other side of her door.

She made a mental note to have Altoids with her at the next game.

* * *

Grissom certainly wasn't afraid of kissing her after that night. In fact, they shared a great many kisses to date. Good night kisses, good morning kisses, good bye kisses, stolen kisses… 

But that still didn't mean Sara enjoyed the smell of hot dogs.

She looked at her fiancé as he kept working with the food before him. He turned around, and gave her a firm, but sweet kiss.

"Why? You didn't seem to mind it the first time…"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

_A/N: I'm so happy everyone enjoyed the last chapter; thanks for the reviews! Chapter 4 will probably be up next weekend. Much love to EllipsesBandit and CSINut214 who are awesome betas. They kindly pat me on the head, and say "good job."_

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Grissom sat at the table filling out the lab's supply forms. Conrad Ecklie reminded him constantly for the past few days to get the papers on the associate lab director's desk. He avoided the pile of folders until his co-workers too, hounded him about running low on their evidence gathering equipment.

As he filled in items the criminalists needed, Grissom periodically caught glances of his fiancé walking back and forth from the living room and the hallway. Sara appeared to be looking for something as she was cursing under her breath and moving couch cushions. Whatever she lost, it was important as he observed her frantic searching. The last time Sara lost an item of meaning, she drove him insane when he tried to help her find it.

Though for a certain reason, that time always brought a smile to his face.

On her fifth trip to the living room, he grew concerned. He rose from his seat, and walked toward her. "Sara, what are you looking for?"

She looked up from her task of searching under the couch. "Sweetie, I can't find my ring," she said, obviously frustrated.

He answered seriously, "Well, did you look down the drain?"

* * *

Grissom stood in the kitchen contemplating his options. His decision didn't have anything to do with the food in front of him; it had to do with the ring in his pocket.

A few days ago he was sleeping soundly when the alarm went off. He turned over to rouse the woman next to him. When he gently nudged her shoulder, Sara stirred a little and then opened her brown eyes. She smiled at him; the glowing, wide, gap-toothed grin that was reserved solely for Grissom.

This is how he found himself in front of a jewelry store awaiting the arrival of a certain blonde CSI. It'd taken a lot of courage for him to call Catherine for assistance. Sure, he learned quite a bit about stones and gems from robbery cases, but it was different when it came to choosing a ring for his, hopefully, soon-to-be wife. This couldn't have a purely scientific approach.

"Well I'd never thought I'd see the day where you would be getting engaged," Catherine said as she put her sunglasses on her head.

"I haven't asked her yet."

Catherine snorted, "Yeah, like she's going to say no."

He smiled at that. Even though Catherine didn't always see eye-to-eye with Sara, she made more of an effort when he started dating the brunette. And he was grateful for his friend's support.

"We aren't going to find the ring out here," she told him as she opened the shop's door.

"You're the boss."

She rolled her eyes, and the two entered. He was overwhelmed by the amount of jewelry. There were so many types of bands, not to mention the different sizes and shapes of the gems. How in the world was he going to make the right choice?

Luckily, Catherine took the lead. "The first thing you need to do is pick a metal that will match her skin tone" she said as she steered him away from the cases with the yellow gold.

He examined the platinum rings where she stood. "I take it these will match her skin tone then."

"Exactly. Now you need to decide if you want colored gems or just diamonds."

"Diamonds should be fine." The other rings looked too flashy and gaudy; definitely not for Sara.

A blonde saleswoman, whose nametag read "Brandi," walked to the other side of the case. "Can I help you two find something?"

Before Grissom got a chance to open his mouth, he heard Catherine chime in, "Yes, he's looking for an engagement ring."

"Congratulations sir. Would you like to take a closer look at these rings?" She gestured to one of the cases.

They spent the next 45 minutes going through the store's platinum selection. While Brandi showed them the different pieces, Catherine helped him eliminate the many choices. Ultimately he decided on an oval shaped diamond with four smaller diamonds on either side.

"What size did you need this in?" Brandi asked.

"Size?"

"You don't know Sara's ring size?" Catherine stated, annoyed at his answer.

Sara mostly wore earrings and maybe an occasional bracelet, but seldom did she have a ring on.

"That's not a problem sir; a lot of men don't know ring sizes. If you get the ring too big, it will be easier to resize than if it's too small."

After making his purchase he thanked the saleswoman and him and Catherine left.

"Now all you have to do is the pop the question. What are you going to do? Romantic dinner by candlelight? Rose petals from the door to table where you'll be waiting in a tux?" she teased.

He gave her one of his typical stoic expressions. "Thank you for your help Catherine."

"You're welcome. Who knows what you could've walked out with if I wasn't there?" He offered her a small smile and started toward his car.

She called his name and when he turned around she told him "Congratulations. Sara will love the ring." And with that, she placed the sunglasses over her eyes, and walked away.

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Truthfully he hadn't given a lot of thought to the proposal. He couldn't produce the kind of setting Catherine talked about, even if she was kidding. Plus, it seemed too conventional.

Grissom noticed his pulse rate increasing as he drove home. What kind of proposal did Sara want? What kind of proposal was he capable of? Numerous questions swirled in his brain, and he determined to get it over with right away. Otherwise thinking about the whole process would drive him to distraction.

As he approached the steps of the townhouse he exhaled a few times to calm his nerves. She wouldn't be able to her answer if he stuttered his way through his speech.

"Hey. Where have you been all afternoon?" Sara greeted, from her position on the couch.

"I had an important errand to run." He hoped she didn't notice him wiping his palms on his pants. He moved to sit next to her.

"Important, huh? Did you find some new, hairy bug you want to bring home?"

"No. Sara, I… there's something I want to…we've been together for…" he closed his eyes and breathed in again. _Why is this so difficult? How hard is it to say four, simple words?_ This was worse than when he went to the diner with her to start their relationship.

"Gil, are you all right? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine." Another breath. "I wanted to ask you--" and was promptly cut off by the loud ringing of a cell phone.

"Shoot, that's mine. Hold on a sec." She went over to the kitchen island to answer the call. Grissom cursed under breath and deplored whoever called at this moment.

"That was Brass; swing shift is tapped out and he needs us for a double homicide." She continued to give him details of the case, and he knew the moment was lost. Murder cases hardly put one in a romantic mood.

-----------------------

The evidence collection and processing had taken an extraordinary amount of time; they didn't get back until 10 o'clock the next morning. Grissom was tired and hungry, and his mind was far from a marriage proposal. Before heading to a blissful day's sleep, he decided to make them breakfast.

Cooking was his favorite indulgence as he could make it his own series of experiments. The recipes, he treated as controls, the standard to how the food should look and taste. And throughout the years, he tweaked the amount of ingredients and sometimes added personal touches. There were some recipes though that didn't require modifications.

One being his mother's waffle recipe. The waffles had been delicious since he could remember. It was also one of the few foods he didn't make in front of Sara because his mother was adamant about keeping the recipe in the family. He wondered if she would change her mind once he got married…

He finished setting the table as Sara came out from the shower. Even though she wore a pair of grey lounge pants and one his old UCLA t-shirts, she still looked beautiful. They sat down and she took a bite of the fluffy concoction. "Mmmm, these so are good. You still haven't told me how you make these."

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's my mother's recipe. It's a secret."

"Really?"

"Took me years to get the recipe from her; I had to swear on my ant farm I wouldn't give it to anyone. She made them all the time when I was a kid. "

She started to giggle and Grissom furrowed his eyebrows. "What's so funny?"

She continued to laugh. "I can just picture you as a four-year-old, eating your waffles, and writing a letter to Roy Rogers with a fat, blue crayon."

"And what is so funny about that?" he asked, still confused.

Sara got up to clear the dishes and she came around behind him. She circled her arm around his shoulders and kissed the back of his neck; he felt the familiar tickle of warmth generated by the action. "Absolutely nothing," she answered, and she picked up his dishes and headed to the sink.

"What did your letter say?" she asked as she ran the faucet.

"'Dear Mr. Rogers. Trigger is the greatest horse in the world. What is his favorite food so I can send him some? Your fan, Gilbert Grissom.' And the crayon was _brown_."

She started to laugh again, and though he didn't understand what she was laughing about, he still enjoyed the sound. He realized he had been thinking far too hard about this.

He climbed from his chair to stand behind her. He looped his arms around her waist and held her to him tightly. Grissom pressed his nose into her hair, and inhaled the citrus scent. He took another deep breath to calm his pounding heart, and whispered in her ear "Would you marry me?"

She froze as if he just asked her if his pet tarantula could sleep in the bed with them. The water was still running. "What did you say?" she asked in a shaky voice.

He chuckled quietly as he reached into his pocket, and pulled out the ring. He held it in front of her, with his other arm still around her, and repeated "Would you marry me?"

It seemed as if hours passed while he waited for her answer. Her body was trembling, and he heard the tears when she spoke very quietly. "Yes I'll marry you."

As he slipped the ring on her finger, he realized the ring matched her skin tone perfectly. The diamonds sparkled almost as brightly as her eyes. This made up for all of the heartache of the past six years.

Relief flooded Grissom when he realized she accepted. His pulse decreased and the muscles in his shoulders loosened. He pulled his hand away to kiss her…

And heard the _tink_ as the ring slipped off her finger and skated down the drain.

A silent moment of disbelief before Sara uttered an exceptionally loud "Shit!" She immediately shut off the water and plunged her hand down the drain.

Grissom watched, amused, knowing he made the right decision.

They spent the next 3 hours learning elementary plumbing.

* * *

"Well, did you look down the drain?" 

The next thing he felt was a _thump _as a throw pillow connected with his head.


	4. Chapter 4

_Remembering Forward _

_Chapter 4_

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to update; work has kept me busy. Thanks for all your reviews! This chapter and chapter 5 are the "forward" part of the story.  
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"There's nothing to watch."

"Honey, its 3 o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday. Of course there's nothing to watch."

"Did we already watch everything on the DVR?"

"Yeah, we did."

"What about the documentary on the samurai?"

"Doesn't come on till Friday."

It had been a stressful two weeks; every criminal in Las Vegas seemed to be working, putting the nightshift into overtime. Administrative meetings had also been scheduled, forcing Gil to listen to the sheriff and Ecklie. On top of the work chaos, Sara asked him to help her with wedding plans as the date was rapidly approaching. Between lab appointments and crime scenes, he managed to make reservations at a restaurant for the reception, book their honeymoon flights, and picked up his tuxedo.

He sat against the arm of the couch with Sara seated against his chest. She was scanning through the channels hoping for a worth while program to watch.

"Did you make the hotel reservations in South Carolina?" she asked, still working the remote.

This was not what he needed right now. A small exasperated sigh escaped. "I did that, along with the other things you asked me to do."

"Don't even start," she warned, turning around to look at him. "I spent three weeks on the phone getting the hotel for the ceremony, I found a justice of the peace, and I managed to find a dress.

An argument would break out if he continued the conversation, and he didn't have the energy to fight. "Fine," he muttered.

She stiffened a little bit, letting him know she was annoyed. He rubbed his hand across his eyes, ignoring the dull throbbing in his head.

When Grissom opened his eyes, he noticed she stopped on a channel advertising a _Cheers_ marathon.

"Wow, I haven't watched _Cheers_ in a long time," she commented.

"I don't see you as a _Cheers_ fan." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It was my indulgence. I watched it from the beginning all to the way to the series finale."

"What year did it start? 1983, 1984?"

"No…I just turned eleven when the show came on, so that would be 1982."

_Eleven? _She was only eleven in 1982. He had been twenty-six…with a doctorate, and already a CSI Level 3. He was making a name for himself in the forensic entomology realm and fast on his way to becoming a renown lecturer. During all of this, she was eleven?

He was thankful she changed channels again so the reminder of their significant age difference disappeared. The next station boasted an upcoming episode of _Perry Mason_.

"Here you go old man," she nudged him with her elbow. "Something right up your alley."

_Did she just say…old man?_

"I think this was in repeats by the time I was born. Wait, wait let me guess. You probably watched something more like _The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet_, right?" and then she laughed.

The age gap now felt like the width of the Grand Canyon. He actually was fifteen years older.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly and got up from the couch.

"C'mon, Gil. I'm kidding. Come back here," she told his retreating form.

He didn't listen, and continued toward the bedroom. Once inside he closed the door to have a few minutes to collect his thoughts.

Most of the time he never considered the age difference; he was just grateful this beautiful woman loved him. Then there were the few times, like this moment, where he felt every one of those fifteen years that separated them. More doubt crept into his mind. What if she wakes up one day and realizes she's married to an _old man_?

The dull throbbing from before developed into an intense pain; it felt as if all the blood vessels in his head were pinched shut. The light in the room became excruciatingly bright, and he saw black roses around his eyes. He heard his heart pulsating in rhythm with the aching in his skull. He cursed himself for ignoring the earlier symptoms. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom.

The second he entered, he regretted the decision; he forgot the bathroom had been recently cleaned, and the stinging bleach odor overwhelmed his senses. The aseptic smell traveled all the way to his gut, creating an incredible wave of nausea. He sank to the floor by the toilet.

Grissom rested his head against the cool porcelain, wishing he got to the medicine cabinet. It would take him at least a few minutes to get up; if he rose too fast, he would likely vomit. He kept his eyes tightly closed and took a few deep breaths to calm his stomach, and braced his arms on either side of the toilet.

Sara's voice came from down the hall. "Gil, where are you? I'm sorry; I was only teasing you."

He listened to her foot steps approaching and then she was down beside him. "Sweetie, are you all right?"

"Migraine," he said hoarsely. As he tried to fight the pounding and nausea, his breath came more rapidly.

"Did you take your pills?" Her hand rubbed gentle circles across his back.

He tried shaking his head, but the dizziness made him sick; he leaned over the toilet as the burning in his throat increased. Her hand left his back, and he heard the medicine cabinet open, the faint rattle of the pill canister, and the faucet running. When she sat down again, her leg brushed against his leg. His eyes opened to slits as he swallowed the tablets and the water, and he immediately closed them again, trying to regain some strength.

After a several minutes on the floor, he finally started to feel the medicine start to take affect; the throbbing began to subside. Sara sat by him, still letting her hand travel the length of his back; he found the action soothing. "Do you feel well enough to get to bed?" she questioned gently. "Yeah," he whispered, thinking how much better he'd feel once he lay down.

Gradually, the pair got up from the floor, with her arm around his shoulders. They carefully made their way to bedroom, and she immediately shut the light off. He opened his eyes to the welcomed darkness; the black roses disappeared. As she closed the heavy curtains, he leaned against the dresser for support. Now the room was completely black, without any trace of the disturbing brightness.

She walked back toward him and put a hand on his cheek. "You doin' okay?"

"Better than before. I'm going to lay down now." He barely saw her nod, then he peeled off his clothes, only remaining in his boxer shorts. Grissom padded over to the bed, and lay down, sprawled on his stomach. The nausea started to diminish. The blood vessels opened again. Just as he was about to relax completely, the door creaked open. "Don't go," he murmured.

Normally when he had migraines Sara would leave him alone to recover, but right now he needed her presence. The door closed, and the bed dipped under her weight. She started to massage his shoulders, gently working out the knots in his muscles. He moaned as she continued to relieve him of tension.

At that moment, Grissom realized the age gap held no significance; Sara had been there to help him through his vulnerable and weak state. She hadn't walked away when he asked for her. He knew she wouldn't regret waking up next to this fifty year old man. With that satisfying thought, he fell into a deep, restful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_Remembering Forward_

_Chapter 5_

The sun was just beginning to rise, creating an orange, glowing light that spilled across Sara as she sat on the couch. After Grissom fell asleep, she had gone back to the living room. She wanted to give him space, but she also needed to think about what happened a few hours ago.

It terrified her that she caused his migraine; he would never say anything, but she felt the situation was her fault. All because of what she said. She didn't think of him as old; he was just older. In fact, she found the gray hair and the lines on his face quite sexy.

Now, she started to doubt her role in their relationship. What did she have to offer him, besides stress? A workaholic, stubborn nature along with an ugly past? Who in the world would want that in their life? Who would accept that kind of baggage? She lay down, and tucked her knees under her chin as overwhelming feelings of sadness and fear washed over her. A few tears escaped, but she refused to start crying. Maybe she what she said before was right; maybe some people shouldn't be together.

She remained on the couch a while longer before heading toward the bedroom. Grissom would no doubt question her if she spent the morning out here. She was mentally exhausted from all of the thoughts swirling in her head. Perhaps some sleep would help.

She quietly opened the door, and slipped inside. Walking over to his side, she saw he was still sleeping soundly. After changing clothes, she slipped into the bed, and curled up on her side with her back toward him. She lay awake, unable to stop wondering if this marriage would work. Finally, she descended into an uneasy sleep…

_A dark figure materializing out of thin air. A massive frame stalking towards her—an object in his hand. The silhouette is too large—a child's conception of an adult. She knows she needs a weapon and frantically, blindly searching for something. Anything. The solid edge of a gun brushes her hand, but every time she reaches for the weapon, it isn't there. The advancing sound of steel-toed boots approaching her. She knows the boots are steel-toed even though she can't see them. She reaches again. Still not there-the breathing is louder. She reaches again. Nothing solid—the boots stop. Inconceivably cold cement stinging her skin. A leathery, gloved finger touches her throat. The hand squeezes ruthlessly. She desperately fights for breath…_

She yelled when a hand touched her shoulder; her eyes opened, frantically searching the surroundings. Her pulse and respiration raced as if she had just run a marathon. The adrenaline coursing through her veins caused her to shake uncontrollably. The cold sweat trickling down her spine made her shiver. When her eyes adjusted, Sara noticed Grissom leaning close to her, gently stroking her arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his tone heavy with concern.

"I'm-I'm okay." She pushed herself from the mattress to be seated next to him.

She closed her eyes, and tried taking some deep breaths to calm her nerves. But then two solid arms pulled her into his chest. The remnants of the nightmare receded; the adrenaline stopped pumping and her body warmed under his touch. When she buried her face in his neck, his grip tightened.

The tears started again as she remained in his secure embrace, not because she was scared or upset, but because she felt relieved. Yes, there was a person in the world who wanted this workaholic, stubborn woman with an ugly past. He loved her, and willingly carried her baggage.

After she sniffled, he spoke quietly in her ear, "I guess I'm not the only one who's stressed."

She chuckled weakly. "No, apparently not."

He pulled away gently, and ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. He pressed his warm lips to her forehead, then tugged her down next to him. Once his arms wrapped around her, she snuggled into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" he said as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Giving you a migraine."

She felt him shake his head. "That wasn't your fault."

"But-"

"Sara," he said firmly, "I don't blame you."

The truth in his voice relaxed her body. "I don't think you're old." Moving closer, she tightened her arm that was around his mid-section.

"I know."

"I'm sorry about teasing you."

He placed a kiss on top of her head. "I know you are. Don't worry about it."

"I love you."

"I know."

She poked him in the stomach, and closed her eyes. Sara slept peacefully curled up to her fiancé.


	6. Chapter 6

_Remembering Forward_

_Chapter 6_

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. You guys make my day. I hope you like this next chapter :)_

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Grissom wiped the sweat from his brow, and sighed. He and Warrick had been working the case of Ben Spenser, a prominent business man, who had disappeared seemingly without a trace. His car was found at his home, and promptly towed back to the lab. But after three hours of processing, the silver Lexus hadn't given them any clues. 

"There's not much more we can do with the car. We'll start looking at Spenser's business accounts tomorrow," Grissom said. "You should probably head home to your wife."

"Yeah. And I bet Sara's looking for you," Warrick replied. "See ya later."

Warrick never had a problem with staying after shift in the past, but since he married Tina, he tried to leave the lab on time as much as he could.

Grissom now understood that line of thinking; it felt good knowing there was going to be someone at home.

After changing out of the navy blue coveralls, he headed to the break room, knowing Sara would be there. He stood in the doorway, unnoticed, as she filled in her planner. Following shift, she'd list the duties she needed to complete the next day, and then carefully highlighted the list. The organizer was color coded: blue for evidence to be processed; green for locations to visits; and pink for the victim's families, friends, associates, etc to interview. Her tongue stuck out a little while she swiped the marker across the paper in straight lines.

He thought of Alexandrea's words to Nicholas III: "_I love you--those three words have my life in them._"

* * *

"Where are we going?" 

"You'll see."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Because we're almost there. Trust me, you'll like this."

She let out a mock sigh. "Fine."

Grissom drove the Denali along the dirt trail toward his destination. Earlier he had picked up Sara for an outing on their shared night off. She kept asking him where they were going, but he only told her to dress warm and bring a notebook. Catherine had mentioned to him Sara had always wanted to visit this place, and he decided to her unofficial tour guide.

He came to a stop just before the gates, with the headlights illuminating the sign. Turning to gage her reaction, he saw her smiling.

"You brought me to the body farm?" Her tone full was of surprise.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I hope you don't mind." He quietly tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel, waiting for her response. How many women wanted to spend the evening looking at bodies hanging from trees?

"Are you kidding? This is great." She opened the door, and jumped from her seat.

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Following introductions with the farm's director, Grissom and Sara explored the grounds. The full moon shone brightly in the clear night sky. Insects, birds, and other animals chirped and whistled throughout the woody area. The slight stench of decaying flesh wafted in the air. At the first corpse, they started quizzing each other on the various states of decomposition. Her knowledge amazed him, especially when she almost stumped him a few times. Almost.

The next body was partially submerged in water, and the face looked as if wild animals had chewed on it. Two pens scratched across the notebooks as the CSIs observed.

"So how long have you been coming to the body farm?"

"Several years. I actually didn't know this place existed until I met the director at a seminar in Indiana."

"Always had a thing for dead bodies?" she smiled.

"Yes," he answered seriously. "I dissected my first animal specimen when I was five."

"You didn't want to become a medical examiner?"

"I didn't want to go to medical school."

"How did you did you get into forensics, then?" she asked as she finished examining the corpse.

During their first few dates, he would give vague answers to questions about himself. Not that he didn't trust her, but it was his nature not to reveal anything personal. Sensing her frustration, he asked she remain patient while he tried to change. And over the course of two months, he gradually shared more of his life. He found her to be an excellent listener. She always gave him full eye contact and waited to speak after he finished.

"There were a couple of police officers in the neighborhood where I grew up. When I was twelve, I overheard them talking about a case at a Fourth-of-July barbeque. It was a robbery; a suspect entered a bank, pulled a gun on the tellers, and demanded money. Just as he was leaving, a security guard tried stopping him, and the suspect opened fire. The guard was killed and three people were injured."

"A few days later, a gun was found in a ditch about seven miles from the bank. The officers were able to trace the gun back to the robbery through test firings and ballistics. The suspect was eventually found, tried, and convicted. I pestered the officers with questions about the gun and the bullets. Eventually I started going to the station after school. That's where I met Phillip Gerard."

At the mention of his former mentor, there was a brief flash of anger in her eyes. Apparently she hadn't forgotten when the man railroaded the nightshift crew a few years ago.

"He wasn't always consumed by politics," he added. "What about you?"

"What?"

"How did you become interested in forensics?"

"Oh. There was a lecture I went to in grad school. Some geeky guy spoke about bugs or blood or something like that. I found it mildly interesting."

He knew she was poking fun at him, but he still felt proud that he brought her into the forensics world. He remembered being bombarded with her questions before _and _after the lecture. There had never been anyone quite so enthusiastic. They shared smiles, and walked to the next body; the corpse was buried in mud.

Sara reached into her jacket pocket to pull out another pen. In fact, she'd been switching pens all evening, each one a different color. As an observer of human nature, he had to ask about this…interesting behavior.

"Why are you always changing pens?"

She laughed and her face turned slightly red. "Just a way to keep my notes organized, that way I don't get information mixed up." She blushed more as she continued, "Actually I keep all my notes on my computer, backed up on discs of course. Everything is filed either on an indoor or outdoor scene. Then it branches to cause of death, then to time of death, then to…what?"

He didn't realize he'd been staring at her the whole time. How anyone could put that much time and energy into arranging information? Wasn't that a little…neurotic? Obsessive? He only had one answer for her.

"I love you."

_Huh! Where did that come from?_ For the past six years he tried convincing himself his feelings were nothing more than an infatuation for a co-worker; a high school type crush that would disappear. He couldn't have been more wrong. Once he admitted he wanted a personal relationship with her, he found those feelings ran incredibly deep. The little hairs on his neck stood up when she brushed her hand across his forearm. The bags from the grocery store became heavier as he bought more food, knowing she'd come over for breakfast or dinner. He slept easier listening to Sara's breathing as he held her in the afternoon. It scared Grissom when he realized how much he loved her, how much he needed her. He never had the courage to say the three little words…until now.

Here he stood, in the middle of the woods, in the dead of night, ankle deep in mud, over a rotting corpse telling Sara Sidle he loved her...talk about a romantic setting.

She hadn't responded to his admission, with the exception of dropping her pen and her face going very pale. His heart pounded incessantly while he hoped he hadn't just ruined their relationship.

As soon as he uttered her name, she said, "Say it again."

"If you don't feel-," but she interrupted.

"Just…say it again."

He said it already, so he knew he could say it once more. "I love you."

"Yeah?" Her eyes reflected a deep mahogany in the moonlight.

"Yeah," he nodded his head a little. Dizziness struck him when he felt her breath on his face.

A few tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but a wide smile lit her face. "I love you too," she whispered.

Even though the evening was chilly, Grissom felt as if he were wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket. He rode many roller coasters in his life, but never experienced such an adrenaline rush. His hands trembled, and he thought his heart would explode from the fast beating.

A nervous laugh escaped his mouth, and she chuckled too. He cupped her face in his hands with a new surge of confidence. He tilted his head and murmured "I love you" before their lips touched.

* * *

Eventually, she looked up at him. "What?" she said slowly. 

"Nothing," he answered, unable to conceal the smirk on his face.

"It's not nothing. You have that 'I'm going to marry an organizational freak, what have I got myself into' look. You're out of luck buddy; you knew what you were getting when you proposed."

"You're right honey; I've always wanted to be with a fanatical, obsessive-compulsive."

She walked to where he stood, and kissed him quickly. "You better not forget it."


	7. Chapter 7

_Remembering Forward_

_Chapter 7_

This is not how Gil Grissom envisioned spending his Saturday afternoon. There was a baseball game on TV, New York Yankees vs. Atlanta Braves, and a cold sub sandwich in the 'fridge. After the game, he had planned on visiting his friend at the butterfly pavilion to inquire about new insect arrivals.

But that wasn't happening. Noooo. At the moment, he was being dragged around a mattress store by Sara; she insisted they get a brand new, king sized bed. So she had him lay on mattress after mattress to determine which one suited them best.

"Here's a nice one. Pillow Top Glory; has 336 coils," she said eyeing the piece.

He groaned inwardly, wondering when this shopping adventure would end. "The tag says it's perfect for young adults, guest rooms, and dorms."

"You're right; we can get something a little better."

They wandered the aisles some more. He didn't want to give up the full-size bed at the townhouse. It was comfortable and soft and had special memories attached.

"This is the one, Gil: The Spring Air Concord Pillow Top. It's made of silk and wool; it has 782 coils, and was 'made in cooperation with orthopedic surgeons for correct back support.'" She read the last part off the tag before sprawling out on the bed with a content sigh.

"Seems a bit pricey."

She sat up, and he saw the firm lines by her mouth. "You have been a pain in the ass all afternoon. There has been a problem with every mattress. 'This one's too soft. This one's too hard. This one dips in the middle. There's a spring digging in my side.' Honestly, do you want to sleep on the couch forever?"

"I just…I don't see why we need a bigger bed."

* * *

Life reached a new level of perfection. The emptiness that came with returning to a cold, sterile home was replaced with anticipation and warmth. 

Grissom eagerly awaited Sara's arrival after work as he had been doing for the last month and a half. They had agreed to meet for breakfast, this time at his townhouse. He made his patented waffles along with a fruit salad, and fresh orange juice. He was pouring the gooey batter in the waffle iron when a body pressed against his back, and two arms wrapped around his waist. He hadn't even heard the door open.

"You know, you shouldn't leave your door unlocked. Strangers might come in," Sara said playfully.

"Somehow I don't think strangers will be coming in here," he answered.

She placed her chin on his shoulder while he sliced a banana. "Did you bring those journals?" he asked.

"Yeah. There are some real interesting cases in them. One about how some investigators identified a charred body dug up by a dog."

Before letting him go, she gave him a little squeeze. Sitting at the kitchen island she said, "You'll have to show me how to make those waffles sometime. They're great."

"Sometime," he vaguely replied.

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They began on opposite ends of the couch, but during the course of the morning she ended up leaning into his side. He smiled and put his arm up so she could snuggle closer. They continued to read as he absent-mindedly rubbed her back.

Grissom never pictured himself as one to enjoy cuddling, but Sara fit so perfectly in his arms. Her head lay against his chest, and he found himself more interested in the smell and texture of her hair, than the journal article.

Sometime later he realized he dozed off because the small book was no longer in his hand; it had dropped to the floor. He blinked his eyes a few times and yawned. He looked down to see Sara had fallen asleep too.

He tried to wake her by stroking her arm, but Sara's response was to tighten the arm around him. This time he stroked a little more vigorously and she opened her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He checked his watch. "It's 11:26."

"I should probably get going then." She lifted herself from him, and he immediately missed the warmth.

She rubbed her eyes with both hands as if trying to wake herself up. It didn't work though, because her lids slipped shut again.

"Honey, you're way too tired to drive home. Why don't you stay here?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I can make it."

"I don't want you falling asleep behind the wheel. Just stay here this afternoon."

She smiled sleepily at him. "I don't have any clothes here."

"I have some sweats you can borrow," he replied.

"You sure you don't mind."

"Not at all," he said warmly.

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While she changed clothes and brushed her teeth in the other bathroom, Grissom fought his nervousness. It had been a long time since he shared a bed with anyone. He worried that he might snore or accidentally hit her while shifting.

He came out his bathroom in a t-shirt and boxers. Typically, he slept in just boxers, but he didn't feel comfortable with being shirtless in front of her yet. He sat on the bed, waiting. Wondering what was taking her so long, he started down the hallway, but she popped out of the bathroom.

The shirt was three sizes too big, and the sweat pants were extremely baggy, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I, uh…wanted to say…goodnight," she stammered.

He pursed his lips in confusion when she turned to go back to the second bedroom. "Where are you going?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times before words came out. "I-I thought…you would want me…to sleep in here."

"No," he gently said.

Offering his hand to her, Grissom led them to his bedroom. He let go of her to shut the curtains. When he turned around, he saw her looking slightly apprehensively at the bed.

His gaze must have broken her from her thoughts because she looked up somewhat startled.

"Sorry," she began. "Which side do you…"

"Oh, uh…this side," he said, gesturing to the pillow closest to him. He pulled the blanket and sheets back, and she crawled in the opposite side.

He lay on his back staring at the ceiling. Should he just go to sleep? Should he offer to hold her? Should he go ahead and put his arms around her? He turned his head, and she was already snoozing.

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Grissom awoke later feeling relaxed, well rested, and warm. He turned his head to look at the clock; the display read 8:48 pm.

He stared at the clock in disbelief. 8:48? He hadn't slept for nine consecutive hours in a long time. Usually he got about five, maybe six hours sleep. He was thinking the clock might be broken when he felt a puff of air on his neck. An unfamiliar weight lay on his collar bone. He looked at his other shoulder and just…stared.

During the afternoon Sara had curled up around him. Her face was about an inch from his. Her left arm was draped over his abdomen, and his legs were entangled with hers.

He watched in astonishment because he'd never seen her sleeping. Sure, he found her napping in the break room a few times, but this moment was different. It was as if he'd been given permission to look at her.

None of the stress lines were present on her face that he saw at the lab. The breathing against his neck was slow and deep from her slightly open mouth. When his fingertips lightly touched her temple, she shifted, rubbing her cheek against his t-shirt.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, regretting he didn't do this sooner, but thankful he hadn't missed the opportunity. The kiss must have awakened her because he found himself staring in sleepy brown orbs.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," he whispered back.

* * *

That afternoon had set a precedent for all the days they slept together. Almost always he woke up holding or being held by Sara. 

So why get a bigger bed if they were going to end up in a tangle of limbs? Just seemed like a lot of unused, wasted space.

Some days she would be plastered against his back, nuzzling his neck. Other times he spooned behind her with their fingers entwined, and their hands held at her chest. Or his personal favorite; the two of them on their sides, facing each other, with her head tucked under his chin. Not a sliver of space between them. And he knew they would wake up like that for the rest of their lives.

His fiancée kept glaring at him. He smiled softly, and after a moment she shook her head with an amused grin.

He knew she got it.

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"Hey Wes! We need your help out front!"

"What's up?"

"Grab a flat bed. There's a couple that just bought the Spring Air Concord Pillow Top."

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The End

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_My most special thanks to my two betas, Ellipses Bandit and CSINut214; you guys are awesome and I appreciate all your time and help._

_And of course thank you to all the readers! Especially stvinny, Lapsus Stili, ayesha84, IrishOphelia, PhDelicious, jtbwriter, Vaguera 7, JesSickUh, paganmelly, Geekluvin' Skater, Miss Jazz, Jane, Golden Grasshopper, anonymous01, Emily, smokeinmirror, Domo Arigato, Peggiegg, Mollygirl, gsrfan, someday GSR, vsky, Silver Dragon 54, gnesd, InThe27thKingdom, ligaras, and Greggo's Gal. If there's anyone I forgot I apologize. You guys made my first fan fic writing experience pleasurable, and I thank you for taking the time to review._


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